


Super

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Will has good/bad news; Wes’ll get them through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for Ladystark428’s “Wes/Riker; perhaps someone had a bad day and needs some cheering up” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158362385615/any-newultra-rare-tolkien-or-trek-ships-i-should).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The holodeck _tries_ , but it just can’t be as cold and damp as _real_ snow. Will supposes he should be grateful for that, but he can’t help resenting the subtle inconsistencies. He stares up at the white Alaskan sky and tries to feel the wind on his face, but it’s a hollow sort of comfort. 

The familiar sensors chirp, and he barks, “Come in,” even though he erected a lockout protocol for a reason. He knows there’s only one person who would break it short of an emergency, and sure enough, he hears Wesley Crusher swear at the first sink of one boot into the snow. Will’s laid out in it, arms and legs spread like he’s going to make an angel, sunken a few inches down. There’s a heavy crunch of footsteps and the slick closing of the holodeck doors.

Then Wesley is bending down next to him, asking, “Why the long face?”

“Bad day,” Will grunts, even though he knows Wesley won’t let him leave it at that. Sure enough, Wesley lifts a thin brow and waits.

But Will doesn’t say any more, so Wesley has to add, “Care to let your number one in on it?”

No. But Wesley will figure it out soon enough—even if Wesley weren’t the smartest person on the ship, capable of solving most any mystery, as soon as Will sends confirmation, his first officer will be the first to oversee the crew transfer. In a dithering sigh, Will admits, “We’ve been assigned our new chief medical officer.”

Wesley snorts, “About time.”

“It’s Doctor Beverly Crusher.”

Wesley frowns and lets out a little, “Oh.”

There’s a minute of silence, full of the crisp wind above Will’s sunken mound, lightly ruffling through Wesley’s hair. His red-black uniform is sucked tight around him, showing off his supple, youthful frame. _Too_ youthful. At least, where a mother’s concerned. 

Finally, Wesley forces out a cheery smile and shrugs unconvincingly. “Well, you’d have to meet her eventually.”

“I’m not looking forward to it.”

“She’ll love you,” Wesley scoffs, because that’s the obvious problem Will has—how he’s going to look Wesley’s mother in the eye knowing what he did to Wesley just last night, and what he was happily going to do again after beta shift. Wesley just waves a dismissive hand. “You’re successful, talented, easy on the eyes—what’s not to love?”

As if it needs saying, Will grumbles, “I’m twice your age.”

“But half my IQ,” Wesley cheerily adds, to which Will shoots him a rotten look. All the uncanny maturity and prodigal intellect don’t make up for sheer numbers. Wesley just keeps on grinning, infuriatingly flippant in the face of the most awkward crew change Will’s ever faced. Then he shifts to let his knees sink into the snow, and he bends down on both arms to place a sideways kiss on Will’s mouth. As he straightens up again, he’s already insisting, “Cheer up. First officer is a dangerous job, and she’ll like knowing that the captain of my ship is especially careful with me.” He has the audacity to wink, and Will hates that it’s true—he hates it every time Wesley boards a shuttle or transporter pad. 

Now he’ll have to do it with Beverly Crusher looking over his shoulder. He just hopes she’s not one of those doctors that spends an inordinate amount of time on the bridge. 

But there’s really nothing he can do about it, so with a defeated sigh, he lifts his arms out of the snow, reaching one to twist in Wesley’s soft hair. A little tug sends Wesley coming down again, and they meet for a proper kiss, full of tongue and teeth. When they part for air and have a heated puff of breath between them, Wesley murmurs, “Ready to melt this snow?” And Will grins at his cheek and pulls him down again.


End file.
